


The Pain is My Pleasure

by witchy_alien



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorders, M/M, Purging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_alien/pseuds/witchy_alien
Summary: Zane obsesses with perfection.
Relationships: Marufuji Ryou | Zane Truesdale/Edo Phoenix | Aster Phoenix
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	The Pain is My Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the tag force games and his obsession with victory

One

72.12kg

Zane stares down at the number. It burns into his mind. He tries closing his eyes, but he can still see the number. 

72.12kg

72.12kg

72.12kg

He steps off the scale and then steps back on. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping will change, but when he gets back onto the scale the number is still the same. 

Zane frowns at the number. It taunts him. He gained from the day before. 

Yesterday, he was 71.5kg. It had meant he was making progress, that he was reaching his goal. 

Zane decides today will be different. He puts the scale away, tucking it safely behind the dresser then goes about his day. 

Two

750 calories

That is a good goal to set for himself. He can probably do less than that. He should do less than that. 

Zane stares at the bread in the cupboard. His mouth salivates and he gulps, ignoring the ache in his stomach. He thinks about walking away but a side of him, a gluttonous side, wants something. He’s weak for wanting something he hasn’t worked for. He tries focusing on the pain of giving in. The pain of losing shooting through his body. 

Just for right now, he thinks, he can give in. He decides to indulge in the pleasure of the soft texture on his tongue. 

There is a jolt he feels through his body the moment it touches his tongue. Zane huddles in the corner of the kitchen, taking his time with each bite.

It’s stupid, really, he thinks to himself. It’s not like he’s hiding from anyone in particular, but there is fear in getting caught. 

The fear of someone seeing him. 

The fear of someone seeing how weak he is. How he can’t even control something as simple as not eating a damn slice of bread. 

Zane hears footsteps around the corner and quickly squishes the bread in his hand. He shuts the cupboard door a little louder than he intended, and turns around to meet Aster’s gaze. 

He knows. 

They stand in silence. Aster looks like he is waiting for Zane to do something. When Zane says nothing, Aster points behind him. 

“You’re blocking the coffee pot,” he says. 

Zane turns around. He isn’t completely in the way. Aster could have easily stepped around him. 

Zane clenches his fist, feeling the soft texture of the bread stick to his skin. He steps around Aster and doesn’t look him in the eye again. All Zane can focus on is the mushed up slice of bread. The disgusting feeling is a perfect punishment for even thinking he could waste calories on it. 

He goes into the bathroom and looks at the bread in his hand. There’s an indention of his fingers and nails. He closes his hand again. Even though he ate a big chunk of it, it still is the size of his hand. It’s too much. 

It’s too many calories. It’s too many carbs. 

Zane opens his hand up again. An irrational part of him wants to finish eating it, but at this point, that would be gross. 

Using toilet paper, he rolls the bread up and throws it away. He carefully covers it inside the trash to make sure there is no chance it can be found. 

Three

Aster is behind him, his hands slowly rubbing down his back. With the blindfold around his eyes, Zane can only see darkness. Aster’s hands briefly pause at the middle of his back. Zane can feel his fingers veering off to his sides, tickling his skin. 

When he arches his back at the sensation, Aster uses it to his advantage. He pulls Zane’s arms back and slides his hands down to Zane’s wrists. Zane feels the rope against his skin. With each tug and brush against his skin, he can hear his heart beating louder. 

Aster stops moving and Zane wonders what is wrong. Aster is quiet behind him. He usually is during this, but he doesn’t normally stop in the middle of it unless there’s a reason such as a signal is given. 

What did he do wrong? Zane must have done something wrong. Was he not doing it right? He always did it right. 

Aster continues tightening the rope, and Zane breathes out in relief. 

Afterwards, Zane can still feel his heart racing. There’s a ringing in his ears that isn’t going away. He tries to even out his breathing, not wanting to show any signs that he’s struggling. 

Aster lays on his stomach next to him, kicking his legs in the air and dragging his fingers down Zane’s chest. Zane pushes his hand away when he gets to his stomach. 

To avoid a judgy look, Zane takes Aster’s hand into his own, and gives him a weak smile. He can barely keep his eyes open.

“That was fun,” Aster says, resting his head on the pillow. 

Zane doesn’t remember going to sleep, but when he wakes his entire body aches. 

Four

His wrists ache. Zane frowns, rubbing the bruises covering them. The ropes have never given him bruises like this before. When Aster walks into the room, he pulls his sleeves down. 

Aster hands him a cup of coffee. 

“You look cold.” 

“It looks good on me,” Zane says, looking down at his sleeves.

He takes a sip of the coffee and immediately spits it out back into the cup. It’s sweet and full of creamer and sugar. This isn’t how he takes his coffee. It’s empty calories. More sugar than he should have this early in the morning. 

“What is this?” Zane glares at Aster.

“Coffee.” 

Aster smiles, watching him. Zane looks down at the mug. It’s hot, almost burning, against his hands. His face and body are also warm. He can’t tell if it’s from the burn of Aster’s stare or the coffee. 

“Just drink the coffee, Zane.” 

“You know I only like it black.” 

Zane stands up and Aster follows him into the kitchen, watching him pour out the coffee. Zane ignores Aster, who is standing right next to him while he pours a fresh cup. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have something with the coffee,” Aster says. He goes into the fridge and pulls out eggs. 

It’s a test.

Zane can do eggs.

78 calories per egg. He could have two of them as well as a slice of toast. He puts a slice for both of them in the toaster as he does the math in his head. 

240 calories rounded up. He could do that. 

He can do that. 

Zane watches Aster cook the eggs. He cracks them into a pan of oil. That is another 90 calories. His stomach growls from the smell of food cooking. 

The toaster dings and Zane is quick to plate it. He angles his body so that way he can put butter and jam onto each slice. He forgoes the butter on his, spreading just a thin layer of jam over it. Aster slides the eggs onto the plates when they’re finished. 

They sit across from each other. Zane takes a bite of his toast and Aster smiles at him. 

Zane focuses on his plate. All he can see are the eggs covered in oil. He can see it seeping off of them. It slides off of the eggs and onto the plate, touching the sides of the toast. The jam that he had to put on the bread is making it soggy with each minute he wastes. 

Aster snaps him out of his trance by talking. 

Zane half pays attention. He takes the salt shaker and mindlessly pours salt onto his eggs. When he finally takes a bite of them they are too salty to be considered edible. He pushes the plate away. 

“The toast should still be fine,” Aster says and pushes the plate back. “Or,” he stretches out the word, “I can just make you more eggs.” 

“No thanks.” 

Zane slides his chair out. It screeches in the silence of their dining room. His legs wobble beneath him and he has to hold onto the table to help himself up. 

“Zane.” 

Aster watches him, challenges him. 

“I just don’t want breakfast this morning,” Zane tries to reason. 

Aster stands up and collects both of their plates. 

“Well, it seems like you don’t want breakfast most mornings.” 

“I’m not a breakfast person,” Zane says defensively. 

“You’re not a food person,” Aster says, ungracefully tossing their dishes into the sink. He looks up at Zane. “If you’re going to starve yourself and die, I’m not here to stop you.” 

Zane takes a step back. He tries and fails to hide his anger. 

“I’m not starving myself.” 

Aster doesn’t move or look away from him. 

Neither one of them says a word. For a moment, Zane thinks that the conversation is over. He puts his hand onto the back of the chair to steady himself, but his body still hasn’t caught up to him standing up so fast. 

“Go get help, Zane,” Aster says and then leaves. 

Zane sits back down. He puts his hands on the table and pulls up his sleeves. The bruises are still there. He places his hand around his wrist to look at where his fingers touch. He squeezes tightly until the pain radiates through his forearm and up to his elbow, then he lets go and does the same to the other wrist. 

Even when he is no longer holding onto his wrists, the pain is still there. 

Five

It’s three in the morning and Zane is woken up by his stomach. It cramps with every movement he makes. Clutching it, he goes to the kitchen for water. When he opens the fridge, he notices the food. He pauses and waits before he reaches his hand out for the pitcher.

Zane stands in the dark kitchen drinking water. When he’s done with the first glass he grabs a second. The cramping in his stomach subsides a little, but now a headache is beginning to form.

He stares at the fridge, thinking that he should get a lock for it. But he shakes away that idea and goes to the cupboard for bread. 

There’s none in there. 

In a panic, Zane freezes. He stares at the empty cupboard. He closes it and opens it up again. Obviously, nothing changes. He walks slowly to the fridge and carefully opens it back up. 

It’s full of fruits and veggies. Zane zones in on the leftover takeout Aster has in there from the night before. When it touches his tongue he is hit with an explosion of flavor in his mouth. His body shakes as he finishes it. He grabs another box, this time of leftover pasta Aster made for lunch. 

Once Zane’s done with that he goes through the pantry, where he finds chips and crackers. It’s almost four in the morning when he’s finally done. 

His head feels foggy and his body aches. He feels more tired than he did when he woke up. With each movement, his stomach turns and aches. He grabs onto the sides of the sink and leans over. 

Everything he ate comes out in nasty chunks of orange and brown. It seems to stop as fast as it began. He coughs out the last of it then runs the water, watching it all run down the drain. 

Half awake, he walks back to bed. He shivers and curls into Aster’s body heat. Aster wraps his arm around Zane in his sleep. 

When Zane wakes up, the bed is empty. His head pounds and he feels like his heart will never calm down. Every movement is a chore. He gets out of bed and showers. The heat of the water makes him feel dizzy. 

Aster doesn’t pay any attention to him when he comes into the kitchen. Zane grabs a cup of coffee and sits at the table. He feels like he has to prove something. Especially after earlier, he feels like he has to show that he can do it. 

“Want to have dinner together?” Zane asks. 

Aster looks surprised. “Sure.” 

Zane immediately regrets asking and he stresses over all day. He only drinks coffee until the afternoon. Then he allows himself to drink water. When he goes to the grocery store, he strategically avoids all the snack aisles. He finds lean meat and veggies to sauté. 

Zane spends his time cooking it. He measures things out perfectly. The entire dinner will be close to 800 calories. 

It’s okay, though, Zane reminds himself. He can do this. 

Aster smiles at Zane when he sits down across from him. Zane knows he is watching him take each bite. He smiles back at Aster.

“It’s good,” Aster comments. 

It is good. Zane hates himself for thinking it’s good. He has done nothing to deserve this food. He will have to make up for it. Zane tells himself that he won’t be able to eat for the next day, at least. 

He has to prove to Aster that he can do this. 

Zane finishes the meal before Aster does. His stomach protests by pushing itself against the hem of his pants. He feels the discomfort settle into his body. 

He’s disgusting. 

Aster finishes his story, which Zane only half heard. He looks at Zane as if he’s expecting a response. 

“I’m not wrong, right?” he asks. Zane has no idea what he is talking about. 

“Yeah — no,” Zane puts a hand on his head. “I haven’t been feeling that well today.” 

Aster gets quiet. 

“This was nice,” he says. 

Zane peeks over his hand. “Yeah.” 

Aster goes to shower as Zane cleans. He tries to think about anything that isn’t the heaviness in his stomach. He can feel his brain swirling. Zane finishes cleaning and goes to bathe after Aster. 

He turns the water on and looks into the mirror. He turns to the side to see the way his stomach curves from the bloat. He tries to suck it in, but it doesn’t change. He thinks about the scale and how the number hasn’t changed. 

He thinks about how he had eaten until he threw up last night. 

Zane tries to listen for any signs of Aster outside of the bathroom. When he doesn’t hear anything, Zane stands over the toilet and bends over. He tries to mimic what had happened the last time. When nothing comes up, he frowns. He tries again with his hand pressing against his stomach. 

The food in his stomach feels stuck. He needs to get it out. 

Zane doesn’t really think when he shoves his index and middle fingers into his mouth. He gags and coughs, but it’s nothing extraordinary. He tries again, going deeper this time. 

Everything comes up. He gets some onto his fingers and looks at his hand in disgust. He continues until there is nothing else to come up. 

Zane feels heavy. It’s hard to breathe and he has to lean against the wall to steady himself. Once he collects himself, he steps into the shower. 

Leaning against the wall, he presses his face against the cool tile. The warm water runs down his body. Zane pulls away and rinses his mouth out with the water from the shower. 

He can do this, he thinks. This way Aster won’t judge him. This way he can live his own life. 

He can do this. 

He has to do this.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the worst oop


End file.
